Matthew Travers

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“...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.”
Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

Haruki Murakami
“Why do people have to be this lonely? What's the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?”
Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

Haruki Murakami
“So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”
Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
tags: loss

Haruki Murakami
“A certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect.”
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Alan Moore
“Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night.

Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.

Was Rorschach.

Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?”
Alan Moore, Watchmen

71 Haruki Murakami Book Group — 5920 members — last activity Jul 05, 2026 06:50AM
Discuss all things Haruki Murakami: novels, short stories, non-fiction, books about HM, translation projects, related music/film, interviews, symbolis ...more
13961 Writers Block Battering Ram — 25 members — last activity Apr 15, 2015 07:22AM
For all those great writers with the dreaded block, we will help give you ideas, or just let you rant and rave until you get it out of your system.
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